


going nowhere

by kenmahinatas



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Romance, Families of Choice, Fluff, M/M, Meddling, Romance, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmahinatas/pseuds/kenmahinatas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having the moniker "D Team" doesn't conjure up the most positive of images, but SSA Leon Hayashi isn't going to let that stop him from one day making it to the top tier of the BAU. Now, if only he had that same determination and initiative in his love life. </p>
<p>Eventual OMC/Spencer Reid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **title** : going nowhere (prologue/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : some bad language

While Leon Hayashi wasn't exactly known for his effusiveness, it wasn't like he was an urban hermit - attached by the thumbs to his smartphone - either. He prefered to think of himself in a healthy middle between the two extremes. He liked his solitude. He liked being alone with his thoughts and Twitter, but he also did leave his apartment frequently and for more than just grocery shopping. And as someone who met most expectations of normalcy, it was only natural that he'd interact with his neighbors.

He particularly liked the fiery, elderly, little Hispanic couple two doors down who'd smack him whenever he tried to offer to help them carry their groceries. He was sure that they were exceptionally fond of him too - by way of their endless teasing and nagging insistence that he eat more despite the fact that he was already a healthy 190 pounds. And as arrogant as it sounded, he thought that he was a unique little fixture to their living room couch, mooching off of their amazing home cooked meals. So it was kind of a kick in the balls when they started talking about _another_ _resident_ on their floor like rainbows came out his ass.

He wasn't _jealous_ or anything - no, fuck no! It just stung a lot. And it was a little sob worthy how much more, how palpably more, Mama Vega and Old Man V loved this other guy over him. Old Man V would talk about how smart the man was, and how polite and sweet he was. How he definitely needed fattening up more than Leon did. He also knew for a fact that if the other guy asked for Mama Vega's bomb ass cookies, that she only made for super special occasions, she would bake it even if nothing major was happening. Which was all of kinds of wrong, because he hadn't even gotten that privilege after knowing the couple for three years. And don't even get him started about the effect this guy had on his other apartment friends and acquaintances. Praises fell from their mouths like water and Leon was only getting more and more intimidated as the days went on.

"He's such a great kid. Always stopping by to check on me when he comes back from work. I'll act all ticked off, but it warms this old biddy's heart, if I were more honest." cackled Mrs. Coombs, the middle aged British woman who literally hated everyone, had told him once in a moment of benevolence in the elevator.

"I think he's fucking adorable," Shelley, the better half of the only lesbian couple on the floor, recounted when he asked. "And he actually went to our dinner party last week unlike a certain someone who slept through it all. Why? You want me to set you up?"

Leon fled from his balcony to the safety of his living room after that line of questioning, ignoring the loud giggles that trailed behind him. It took another two days before he got up and went around questioning the others on his floor.

"He's an old soul, smart as hell and so helpful too! And unlike you, _he_ always listens to my stories and picks up milk for me when I ask." harrumphed Mr. Palmer, an old war veteran who lived at the end of the hall. "Now, get away from my door before I get Blondie to try and eat your foot again."

Blondie was an adorable teacup Yorkie and also Satan. She hated his guts with a burning and needless to say, he ran like hell after that quick interrogation. Everyone he asked, from the constantly frazzled Mrs. Lin, a single mom of two pairs of twins, to the perpetually partying Reese Wilcox, a trust fund baby with more money than he knew what to do with, had nothing but the highest adulations for this guy. Who the _fuck_ was he? And how dare he steal the title of 'best resident on the floor' from him like this? He wondered if the cutie from Room 231, who moved in about 8 months ago, knew the person in question. Leon desperately hoped not, because he still needed to work up the courage to actually _talk_ to Room 231. He had a three month plan in place that led the wonderful moment where he was actually going to ask Room 231 out, and that wasn't going to work if someone was going around possibly stealing their attention with his supposed _sweetness_.

 _Okay_ , so it was wholly accurate to say that he was jealous. And threatened.

 _Severely_ so.

But as someone who hated his out of work friends just as much as he loved them, the Vega couple and the other various characters that resided on his floor had become a sort of safe haven that he desperately needed after long days at work at the Bureau. He didn't want to lose them to some crummy little, friend-stealing kid - yes, he was aware that he was a twenty six year old man being needlessly petty, but he didn't really care. Of course, these were all sentiments previous to actually meeting the enigmatic "lovely, little Spencer Reid".


	2. chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> early morning coffee, meddling old people, a cat who thought he was pathetic and the destruction of his three month plan all before seven am. leon's love life is still floundering spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title** : going nowhere (1/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : bad language, whiny little baby ocs

Leon sighed contentedly, guzzling down his customary cup of coffee with a satisfied gulp. He stood outside by his patio sofa, breathing in the crisp air with relish. After a few deep breaths, he sat heavily and leaned back onto the cushions with a thump, looking up at the orange-pink sky. It was a gorgeous morning, if a little bit chilly from the early spring and it was this image that he thought to himself that, sometimes, there were perks to being awake at an ungodly five am. He peeked over his mug over to the apartment directly across from his, lights still out, curtains parted, and smiled.

Yep, there were definitely perks.

Because while five am sunrises were definitely up on the list of great things, nothing beat six am. On the dot every weekday, the occupant of Room 231 would begin his routine at six. Leon pictured him staying rolled up in bed for another ten or so minutes, sleep mussed hair and smacking lips, before dragging himself out to scamper into his kitchen and zip straight over to the coffee machine. It only took Room 231 a couple moments to whip up his coffee and by six fifteen, he'd be out on his own balcony watching the sunrise.

Leon was a little (desperately) in love with the look of peace on his face and how angelic Room 231 looked, practically glowing in the golden morning light. Leon shook himself, before he got lost in the fantasy (again) and smacked himself with his empty mug for being so fucking _creepy_. His cat gave a soft sigh from his side and she gave him a look that was both pitying and condescending - it wasn't the first time he felt that his cat knew more than she let on.

"Fuck off, Cupcake," Leon groused at his cat. "I can't help that I suck at life. So I can't talk to cute people that I want to date, that's not a goddamn crime, is it?"

Cupcake (he took a moment to remind himself to never, _ever_ let his kid sister name anything of his again) seemingly huffed at him before getting up and stalking away. The little Siamese cat stopped and looked back over her shoulder, aiming another one of her condescending looks before disappearing into his apartment.

"God, even my cat thinks I'm pathetic."

Thinking about it rationally, it was insanely creepy and sad of Leon to watch his "crush" get up every morning - though he loathed the term 'crush', there was nothing more appropriate for his juvenile predicament. Unfortunately, his sleep addled brain always convinced him that it was totally acceptable and not at all reminiscent of the countless descriptions of serial killer/stalker behaviors he's studied before. In his defense, he's lived in a state of denial way before Room 231 came barreling into his life with his adorable everything.

To distract himself from the sad state of his love life, he went inside to make himself another cup of coffee. He came back out, sans cat and in a significantly better mood, ten minutes later. He looked down the community garden in the middle of their complex and saw a perky Mama Vega and grumbling Old Man V beginning to plant their yearly pansies. Leon would never know how a woman of her age could stand to wake up at 5am and be so happy, but then again Mama Vega was too complicated for this world to explain.

She waved up at him when she saw his head poke over the railing and he returned it half heartedly before peering at Room 231's balcony again. She smiled at his less than eager reaction and smirked mischievously when he looked away; she poked at her husband (who only rolled his eyes and wiped at his knees before getting up), and together they made obnoxious cooing, kissing noises loud enough to wake most of the building. And suddenly Leon's regained composure was back into its shattered state.

"Grow a pair, kid!" Old Man V screeched. "Stop spying on him and do something!"

"Eres sea un pendejo o un cobarde y no sé que es peor," Mama Vega tutted loudly. "Children these days don't know how to communicate anymore. Just talk to him like a normal person, mijo, and not like you watch him undress every morning!"

In that moment, Leon learned what total, soul encompassing, 'I-wish-I-was-dead-instead' mortification was. Because _of_ _course_ , just when he got over being pitied by his fucking _cat_ , he was reminded that his friends were asshole senior citizens who had nothing better to do than try and kill him with embarrassment. He made aborted gestures and high pitched noises of distress when he saw Room 231's lights open from all of the manic cackling the Vegas were making right underneath his apartment.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Leon whisper-shouted frantically when he saw a head of messy hair poke out behind the curtains of the bedroom window.

He felt a little weak at the knees when he saw those adorable doe eyes peek out of the window and look confusedly down at the garden. The Vega couple waved at the man happily and Leon watched as a long fingered hand came up to stifle a yawn before he waved back at the two sleepily. There were pressed lines on Room 231's face, probably made when he fell asleep on a book or something, and a pencil stuck in his hair. Oh God, he was so _fucked_. That was just about the cutest thing he's ever seen in his life and he's seen a basket full of eight week old puppies. He watched in muted horror, the sound of blood rushing to head drowning out anything the Vegas could have said to him, as Room 231 stumbled out onto his balcony to make conversation with the couple.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Vega," Room 231 greeted happily, if a bit subdued by sleep.

He sat on the floor of the balcony looking strangely vulnerable to Leon without his usual giant cup of coffee. He slotted his legs through the metal bars, and swung them lightly in the air.

"How many times do we have to tell you, cachorro?" Old Man V replied, shaking a garden trowel up at the sky. "It's Mama Vega and Papa Vega! None of that mister, missus nonsense."

Room 231 ducked his head shyly, teeth pulling at his bottom lip in mild embarrassment. Leon repeated his mother's recipe for pancakes over and over again in head until he was half sure that he wasn't going to faint and swoon at the sight of that alone. God, that was going in the memory bank, marked 'dangerous and/or fatal if remembered in public'.

"How about Mr. and Mrs. V instead?" Room 231 compromised, eyes large and hopeful.

Mama Vega huffed, but nodded her acquiescence - appeased by the man's willingness to try and be more casual with her and her husband.

"Fine," Mama Vega said shortly. "But don't think I won't keep fighting to get it my way."

Room 231 laughed quietly and it was like the world dimmed and the only thing that Leon could see was this beautiful man and his to die for smile. Lord help him, he was so far beyond fucked. Old Man V must have seen the dazed expression on his face because suddenly he was being introduced to the guy he'd been crushing on for fucking _months_.

He panicked internally - he had a plan! A perfect plan that involved him bumping into Room 231 in the elevator so that they could talk for the first time without anyone else involved. It was going to be perfect, but those meddling old farts had to go and interfere. Mama Vega's head whipped around to pin him with a glare like she could hear what he was thinking and he gulped and thought about Cupcake throwing up on the carpet to see if that would get an appropriate reaction. It was too late to see if his experiment succeeded or not because Old Man V was introducing him and oh God, he wasn't ready.

He was wearing his stupid Superman sleep pants that had an upwards of thirty holes in it (and in all the embarrassing places too) and a tank top that resembled a dishrag more than it did clothing. Room 231 was going to think he was schlubby and unhygienic and would never think of him as datable and it was all Old Man V's fault.

'Abort fucker! Abort!' his mind screamed at him, but it was too late.

"Hey cachorro, have you met our neighbor yet?" Leon cursed his friend when he saw the sly smirk on his face.

Room 231 looked at him, cheeks pinked and teeth worrying at his bottom lip again and it was then that Leon was sure that someone had it out for him somewhere.

"I haven't yet, actually," Room 231 replied, shrugging helplessly.

He smiled at Leon a little nervously and did a quirky little wave that made Leon's heart do jumping jacks in his chest. Who allowed for this man to be this adorable?

"Hi, I'm Spencer Reid. I live over in Room 231."

And it was like the sun shone specifically on him in that moment. He finally knew his name. He knew his name. Leon no longer had to rely on a dumb (and creepy) moniker, which really wasn't his fault because not a single one of his neighbors would tell him Room 231's - _Spencer's_ \- name, and how fucked up was th-.

Leon stopped his internal monologue.

_Spencer_ _Reid_?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my spanish is terrible (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧


	3. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leon finally finds it in himself to speak to spencer, all the while screaming internally in his head with both fear and excitement. the vega couple still meddles, cupcake the cat is still better than leon could ever hope to be and - what's this? a date?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title** : going nowhere (2/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : bad language, whiny little baby ocs, meddling old people, condescending cats

Leon only had a moment of internal screaming before he steeled himself and put off the shock of the revelation for later, safe in the privacy of his bedroom. Right now, he had something way more important to do: making a good first impression. His sweating hands were shaking and his mouth was so dry he doubted three gallons of water could make it better. God, he was going to kill those old bags for putting him on the spot like this.

"Hey man," his voice cracked a little, but he pushed forward, exuding a faux calm. "Name's Leon Hayashi. I've heard a lot about you from the Vega's."

Leon nodded back benignly, viciously stomping down the urge to grin blindingly in a weird mix of petrified happiness. Spencer had looked at him apprehensively when his initial silence continued on for a little too long, but smiled in quiet relief when he finally replied. His mind shorted for a moment before it was flooded with a mass of previous advice and suggestions his sister had given him during their last breakfast together. It was all pooling in a mess in the center of his brain, nothing coming across completely discernable or useful, and Jesus, he was sure he was going to fuck up and say something weird.

"The Vega's have told me all about you as well." Spencer said softly, playing with the hem of his too large shirt and making minimal eye contact.

Leon knew that that could go one of three ways: 1) the Vega's were spreading vicious, embarrassing lies about him because they were terrible people who kept Leon in the dark that his floor 'rival' and crush were actually the same person, 2) they were telling Spencer viscous, embarrassing _truths_ about him because Leon never learned to have a filter around those old bags and they actually hated him, or 3) they were lauding and praising him and acting like the best wingmen a desperately infatuated, creepy guy could have. He was banking every part of his soul on number three.

"If they've told you something that sounds weird about me, I can guarantee it's not true." Leon rushed, hands waving frantically.

His worry was enough to make him forget about his current anxieties, he was more focused on if he had a reputation left to salvage at all after what the Vega's could have said. Spencer pressed his lips together in suppressed mirth, a curtain of brown hair falling in front his face, brushing at his delicate collarbone. Leon's dry mouth came back with a vicious bite as he followed the line of Spencer's neck to his pronounced jaw - Leon has to take a quick sip of his frigid coffee to stop himself from spouting poetry about the guy's gorgeous cheekbones.

"Nothing like that, no." Spencer replied, muted amusement in his voice.

Spencer's face fell soon afterwards, and a wave of too fast emotions passed through his face. Leon panicked, wondering if he said something wrong, because why else would Spencer's mood change so fast?

"I'm sure you must've heard strange things said about me though," Spencer finally said, after an awkward silence. "I've been known to say or do things that aren't exactly part of the norm, or within the bounds of social expectations."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he cut himself off abruptly and glanced down at his hands with a mortified twist to his lips. He looked up through his lashes briefly, shrugging in self deprecation. Leon's heart ached for a different reason then - that look of pure insecurity shouldn't be on a face so adorable and _perfect_. But before he could say something stalker-like and creepy, Mama Vega and Old Man V scoffed and glared heatedly at Spencer.

"Only that you're too skinny, child," Mama Vega huffed. "You're a charming boy, Spencer. Lovely and sweet, and whoever ends up with you is going to be the luckiest person in the world."

Leon didn't miss the total lack of defining pronouns in Mama Vega's little speech, and he wanted to look away from Old Man V's implicating, dancing eyebrows. Spencer winced when she called him 'child', but grew a pretty pink as she complimented him and Leon was sure that his heart was going to give out on him. It definitely wasn't healthy to experience so many palpitations in such a short amount of time.

"Um, I," Spencer stuttered, before looking over at Leon with pleading eyes. "Uh, Mr. Hayashi, I just wanted to apologizing for never taking the time to introduce myself these past few months."

"Oh no! It's totally fine. I, uh, I tend to have long and weird working hours. I'm definitely at fault here, so don't worry about it. And please, call me Leon."

Leon was quick to reassure him, talking a tad too loudly for the early morning. He couldn't help it, while the situation wasn't ideal, he was actually _speaking_ to Spencer instead of admiring him from a distance. Or you know, asking his neighbors about him and getting the bare minimum of information because apparently, everyone secretly hated him. It occurred to him then, that the conspiracy to keep Leon from finding out that Room 231 and Spencer Reid were the same person ran deeper than just Mama Vega and Old Man V. He cursed inwardly, he was sure that at least half the floor knew about his love problems and the other half would find out soon enough if Shelley and her girlfriend, Ailey, had anything to say about it.

"Oh! Please, call me Spencer then," Spencer was quick to offer back, smiling back hesitantly. "O-or Reid is fine too, I usually go by Doctor but um-."

"You're a doctor?" Leon couldn't help but interrupt in his shock. "God, that's amazing. You're amazin-, I mean! You look so young. Th-that's uh, amazing."

Apparently his voice had passed his cat's self determined level of noise tolerance because Cupcake trailed back outside and with a loud, annoyed meow, darted to his feet and landed a quick swipe at his ankle. She pushed over his mug carelessly as well, before clambering onto his lap, tiny claws leaving new holes in his pathetic sleep pants with each attempt to reach higher.

"Christ! What the hell, Cupcake?" Leon hissed, plucking the cat from his pants and holding her up to eye level. "Daddy's busy right now, your highness."

Cupcake hissed, paw raised in warning, obviously displeased by how Leon was holding her. Leon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, momentarily forgetting about his intrigued audience, and patted her on the head to appease her. Cupcake huffed at the rough handling but allowed Leon to pet her three more times before she wriggled and was dropped back down onto Leon's lap for more gentle pets.

"Oh, she's gorgeous. A Siamese, right?"

Leon looked up at the honest to god coo of adoration; Spencer was staring at his cat with wide eyes, glowing a little when Cupcake perked up and glanced at him through Leon's hands. Leon looked down at his cat in amazement like she was the answer to all his problems and silently apologized to her for what he was about to do.

"Yeah! Her name is Cupcake," he winced as that tumbled out of his mouth before he could censor it. "My little sister named her because she loves to torture me."

Spencer didn't seem to notice how uncomfortable Leon was with the entire name situation because he launched into an excited lecture.

"Did you know that the Siamese is one of the oldest domestic breeds in existence? They've been the companions to the royal family of Siam, now Thailand, for hundreds of years, so technically calling her 'your highness' is entirely appropriate. Is she a classic Siamese? She looks a little too small to be an Applehead."

Leon was stunned into silence and before he could get a reply out, Spencer was already starting up another round of words.

"But doesn't she ever get lonely? It's been seen that Siamese cats get really attached to their owners and can get separation anxiety easily if they're left alone for too long of a time period - and you did say you work long hours, right? Um, not that that is any of my business. Oh God, I'm so sorry, if I ever speak too much or go on for too long about anything feel free to interrupt or stop me, I know I can be a bit unbearable."

Spencer looked so adorably embarrassed, one hand clasped tightly at his elbow and his lips pressed in a tight line and if Leon didn't have more self control he would have teased the guy just to see that expression again.

"What?! No, no you could talk about the oxidation process and I'd listen for hours on en-. Um, anyway, I never knew that about Cupcake, I just thought she was acting like royalty to piss me off. Would you - that is, if you're not busy or anything later today - would you like to meet her? She likes to go and explore the gardens in the morning. But don't, uh, feel obligated to or anything I'd love to hear more about what you know."

Spencer's head shot up like he couldn't believe what he was hearing and Leon was about to backtrack severely, thinking that he had pushed too quickly. But then his face lit up with an excited little grin and Leon's brain melted in his skull.

"I-if you really don't mind, then yes, I'd love to meet her." Spencer replied, pushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

Leon was a pile of gooey man, suddenly so happy that he was boneless and he didn't care that his face probably looked terrifyingly psychotic with his grin threatening to split his face. Neither of them said anything for a short second, content to just look at each other with happiness.

"Then it's a date!"

Mama Vega's delighted statement broke them out of their trance and Leon didn't have to look to see that Spencer was probably just as red in the face as he was. God, honestly, _fuck_ his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my summary sounds like an over dramatic summary on the back cover of a shoujo manga
> 
> and i love it


	4. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leon gets ready for his not-date with reid, we meet shelley and ailey, cupcake gets dressed up and absolutely nothing happens plot-wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title** : going nowhere (3/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : bad language, secondhand embarrassment, mild humilation, over the top scenarios, unfulfilled tension

He wasn't primping.

No really, he wasn't primping at all. He was totally spending the usual amount of time getting ready. He wasn't agonizing over what his hair should look like, or if he should wear cologne or not, and Shelley and Ailey were not in his living room waiting for him to come out with the tenth prospective outfit for his date with Spencer.

Not that it was a date!

"I'm going to die here," Ailey groaned, voice muffled from outside his bedroom door. "I'm going to die here, covered in cat hair and breathing your creep air."

"Babe!" Shelley scolded; Leon thanked her silently, he knew Shelley was his favorite for a reason. "We both knew he was a creeper when we decided to help him, so it's not polite to-."

"You're no longer my favorite!" Leon interrupted loudly. "I don't know why I put up with you two!"

"Where else are you gonna get the steamy, sordid details about your crush?" Ailey said blandly. "Mrs. Coombs and Mr. Palmer hate your guts, and you'd be lucky to have a two second conversation with Mrs. Lin. You don't know the Qureshis or the Griffins well enough to ask, and the Burtons are still considering what Cupcake did to their herb garden an affront to their family name. Not to mention, Reese is still pissed at you because you called the cops on him and his girl of the week last month… Not that I blame you."

Leon burst out of his bathroom in a flurry of embarrassed flailing, shirt askew and pants down to his ankles.

"How was I supposed to know murderous screaming and threats of bodily harm was their version of foreplay?! Why do you always have to bring that up?!"

The two, lounging around in his living room and eating cup after cup of his strawberry yogurt like they owned the place, clapped their hands over their eyes in unison, horrified looks on both their faces.

"Dude!" Shelley squeaked faux dramatically. "Our delicate lesbian sensibilities!"

Ailey couldn't hold onto her composure for too long and she was cackling into her third cup of yogurt. Leon only felt a little vindictive when she choked on it briefly.

"Yeah, tiger," she teased after her coughing fit subsided, openly looking at his bits. "Save that shit for Spencer."

"Fuck you!"

"You're cute," Ailey snorted, gulping down a large spoonful noisily. "This outfit makes your ass look good, go with this one."

Leon froze in the middle of another dramatic flail. He looked down at himself before turning to the mirror suspended on his wall. He turned left and right, trying to catch a glimpse of his behind. He was only a little skeptical of Ailey's claims; he knew his ass looked good - squats, motherfucker - but his jeans were a little grubby.

"You really think so?" he asked, with pursed lips. "I wore these out to grocery shop with Mama Vega yesterday."

Shelley rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and then you came home and vegged out on the couch in your Batman boxers for the next six hours. They're clean."

"And how the fuck do you know that?"

"You're not exactly Mr. Exciting, Leon."

Leon sneered at the two of them with as much bitterness as he could muster - which, with his upcoming not-a-date date with Spencer, was not a lot.

"I'm an FBI agent, I'm plenty exciting." he insisted, picking up the empty yogurt cups the girls left lying around.

Ailey shot up from her slouched position on the couch to smack him on the back as he passed by.

"Make sure you mention that!" she said, basically punching his vulnerable back to emphasize her words. "When my ex-girlfriend mentioned she was an agent on our first date, I totally got hot under the collar. It's the suits, man, that and the handcuffs."

Shelley snorted indelicately. "I would apologize for her, but she probably will say more terrible things and I don't have enough patience to apologize for the rest of my life."

"Please get out of my apartment, you freeloaders." Leon begged, yanking his spoons out of their hands.

After a few more minutes of heckling from Ailey and Shelley cooing over Cupcake, (smooshing his poor cat to her bosom like she was her child) they finally took pity on him and left. It was only when all the distracting noise disappeared that he realized just how close he was cutting it to his da-... meeting with Spencer.

Looking at Cupcake with a critical eye, he debated on whether or not it was worth numerous battle wounds to get her into her fancy collar. It was a pink monstrosity, sparkly and shiny, blinding really, but it had a cute little matching bow to put in the middle of her ears and people usually went gaga for that shit, right? As if Cupcake knew what he was thinking, she yowled and bounded over to the door, clawing at it to try and force him to go out to the garden already.

He was confident enough to admit to himself that he was stalling, but Christ on a bike, he was so fucking nervous. Because Spencer was basically the most adorable man he's ever laid his eyes on and he was so shy and kind and smart. It's like Leon is back in the third grade wondering if the Valentine he sent to his first crush will get a good reaction or not. If Spencer circled "no" on the metaphorical Valentine that was this date, then Leon would basically have to give up on dating forever. He shuddered at the thought and clipped on Cupcake's leash before heading out of his door.

By sheer force of will, he made it to the elevators without lapsing into a panic attack and got to the first level only slightly out of breath. The sight of Mama Vega and Old Man V loitering around the interior entrance, dirt smudged on their faces and Old Man V grinning like he had won the lottery, almost made him turn around. They converged on him like lions on the hunt and grabbed his arms with surprising strength.

"Thank the Lord, I thought you stood up Spencer," Old Man V said. "Ten more minutes of stalling and you would have lost me twenty dollars, boy."

Leon gaped, not sure why he was so shocked after years of being subjected to this treatment.

"Feh," spat Mama Vega. "I was sure you were going to keep primping for another half hour. Thanks for nothing!"

She slapped a crisp twenty dollar bill into Old Man V's outstretched hand and smacked Leon on the back of the head.

"Ow! Mama, what the hell?"

"Hurry up and get in there, your cat is already making more progress in two minutes than you have ever made in the eight months you've pined."

Leon looked at his empty hand and looked up to see Spencer sitting on one of the stone benches, petting Cupcake's head with an adoring look on his face. He looked sleep-mussed still, hair in an adorable disarray, bundled up in a thick hooded sweater and jeans, and holding a large travel mug of coffee. Leon felt all his irritation melt away and he turned to glare at his two friends.

"We will be having words once I am less ecstatic," Leon said, not at all threateningly.

They rolled their eyes unapologetically and shoved him through the door. Spencer looked up from petting Cupcake and gave Leon a shy little smile.

"Good morning," he greeted with a raised hand, fiddling with his mug. "Um, Cupcake looks, um - she looks really cute."

"Thanks, Moriko - I mean, my little sister, uh, she's the one who bought it."

They both lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Leon didn't know if it was more awkward to remain standing or attempt to sit next to Spencer. In the end, he opted to shuffle in place and hope that he didn't look as foolish as he felt.

"So what-?"

"Are you-?"

They spoke at the same time, and stopped at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment before Cupcake meowed in annoyance and left them to go play in the grass instead. Leon laughed, half hysterically, before sitting next to Spencer rather unceremoniously.

"So now that we've fulfilled that stupid cliche, how are you this morning?"

He screeched at himself internally, marvelling at how callous and rude he sounded, but his stupid brain let it tumble out of his fat mouth before he could stop himself.

Well, there goes that potential relationship - time to become a hermit and never come out of his room ever again. Shelley, who adored everything Cupcake did, would probably buy food for her anytime, and Mama Vega wouldn't let him starve, so he could always mooch off of their groceries indefinitely. He wasn't that high up on his boss' list of favorite agents (fourth out of six actually, and two of them weren't actually on their team), so she wouldn't miss his presence very much - if she even noticed that he was gone in the first place. And wasn't that just the most depressing series of thoughts he's had all day?

Spencer laughed, short, but open and bright.

"I'm tired actually, but then again who isn't at," here he took a look at the delicate wristwatch clasped above the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. "seven am."

He then looked surprised, like he couldn't believe that came out his mouth before schooling his face into something more neutral and taking a long sip of strong smelling coffee. Leon was torn between cooing and snickering like a little kid. What can he say? He was always a sucker for dry wit.

"What can I say," Leon replied, amused despite himself. "I'm a morning person, I love the sun."

Spencer's eyes slipped shut as he took another long drink, lips pursed on the rim of his mug. He placed it down on the space between them on the bench, far from Cupcake's wandering paws.

"Yes, I always notice you're up even before the Vegas, and they're a little more than excitable in the mornings."

"You notice me in the morning?"

And Christ, it's like his mouth wanted to embarrass the fuck out of him today. Could he sound any more desperate? But apparently, Spencer took it the wrong way, his eyes snapping open in alarm and his face becoming a gorgeous shade of pink.

"I, that's to say. I mean, you're very...! What I mean to say is, that -. It's hard not to notice, because our apartments are directly across from one another and uh, also, um? In my line of work it's a necessity to be observant, so I'm sort of hardwired to be hyper aware of, basically everything, and I hope you didn't take that as-."

"No!" Leon exclaimed. "No, I didn't for it to come out the way it did, I'm sorry."

When it looked like Spencer was going to open his mouth to apologize back to him, he cut him off again with another ridiculous self-deprecating statement.

"It just seemed like you had no idea I even existed? Like I would be out on my balcony, accidentally making constant and painfully awkward eye contact with Mr. Palmer, who is pretty loose with his pants in the morning, but you manage to have entire hour long conversations with him and never look at me once. So… You know, I just figured…?"

Leon trailed off before he could embarrass himself anymore and took a peek at Spencer. He looked confused and a little more than slightly flustered, which frankly speaking, was probably Leon's favorite look on him thus far. Was that sadistic of him? Probably, but at least he wasn't spewing that fun fact out loud.

"I knew you existed!" Spencer insisted, hands come up to flail around. "I just never knew how to start a conversation that wouldn't have you backing away slowly before running away. Also, you're sort of intimidating? Not that you look frightening, of course! Just that… That you look like you could snap me in half if I say the wrong thing - which, I do often because I don't have a filter… and, and…"

Spencer took a deep breath before looking at Leon, pained and completely red.

"I'm sorry I dragged you out here, this was a bad idea. I'll leave you alone now; again, I'm sorry."

He picked up his mug, scrambling off the bench in a tangle of limbs, and left (more like, ran like the devils were crawling out of hell to reach him) without a backwards glance, ears a noticeable burning red. It all happened so fast that Leon wasn't sure if this was just another dream about getting the guts to speak to his crush. Cupcake, predictably, brought him back to life with a yowl as she batted a bee loose from a spiderweb and got chased around for all her efforts. He looked down at himself, still in a state of suspended shock, unbelieving that it was his physique that drove off a potential date. The people he dated usually loved the fact they could manhandle them (of which lead to some thoughts of manhandling Spencer's skinny body and… Well, he wasn't going to go there right now) and marveled at his strength. He looked at his biceps in betrayal before feeling awash with disappointment. Well, there goes the one that got away.

Time to dust off his old afghan, that was God's way to saying he was going to be single forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i _was_ writing this for my nano last year, but then again i've never completed my past nanos
> 
> (that doesn't bode well for the life of this fic, but i'll try my best)


	5. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we meet some more colorful residents of the second floor, leon mopes and is called into work - that's pretty much it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title** : going nowhere (4/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : language, secondhand embarrassment, mild humiliation, over the top scenarios, ridiculousness

It didn’t take long for the rest of the floor to find out just how disastrous his date with Spencer went. In fact, not an hour had passed when a loud obnoxious pounding came at his front stoop. Leon was tempted to let the person wear themselves out in their fervent attempt at mauling his door, but he eventually uncurled from his miserable position in the middle of his living room floor (face down into his carpet, pants around his ankles and the sparkly pink flask that his little sister gave him for his birthday in hand) and trudged to the door with the air of a man defeated.

He thought it was the depression giving him hallucinations at first, but after the first couple of blinks didn’t get rid of the image of Reese Wilcox standing in front of him, eyebrows raised with a supremely unimpressed frown on his lips, he decided to accept it as reality.

“You look awful,” Reese stated bluntly. “More so than usual.”

Okay, yep. Definitely Reese - no one could be that much of an asshole at ten in the morning (God, was it only just ten? He could have sworn that he was wallowing for so much longer). Leon couldn’t even muster up the appropriate amount of irritation at the barb and instead tried to shut the door in Reese’s dumb, smug face. One of Reese stupidly expensive boat loafers came between the frame and the door in time. He pushed it open easily, Leon’s body control still not at its best what with his despondence and all, and invited himself in without so much as a by your leave. Much like Shelley and Ailey at the beginning of his cursed morning, he decided to plop onto Leon’s couch like he owned the place and rooted around in the pile of mail on his coffee table. _How_ was this his life?

“I can’t believe how much you fucked up. I mean, really, fifteen minutes and it’s over?” Reese asked, nonchalantly opening up a letter offering Leon a year’s worth of magazine from Teen Vogue. “I’m almost impressed.”

Leon didn’t know if it was the blatant federal offense occurring right in his line of sight, or the fact that someone invaded his space again, but he was struck dumb for another minute just contemplating how his life had reached this low, low, _low_ point. For Christ’s sake, he was letting some twerp, barely out of college (did Reese even _go_ to college?) walk all over him. Reese stood up, the letter still in his hands, a look of disgusted pity plainly set out on his face.

“Ailey told me to come here and check on you, but you’re obviously going to die alone so there’s not much I can do.”

His face contorted into a terrifying parody of a sympathetic smile.

“At least you finally know his name,” Reese said faux-encouragingly. “It was amusing at first, watching you bumble around like an idiot, but it got old real quick.”

“You little asshole,” Leon growled out, stepping forward to try and intimidate him.

He had half a foot and sixty pounds on Reese who was, at best, a delicate beanpole. Leon made a single step when he realize, far too late, that his pants were still around his ankles. He flailed before falling into a graceless heap at Reese’s feet. He looked up to see Reese laugh at him meanly, a sneer on his smirking lips and not even bothering to pretend to be the least bit apprehensive of Leon's (obviously superior) physique. He stepped over his sprawled body into the kitchen easily, putting his magazine subscription onto the island to rifle around in his cabinets. When it became clear that all Leon had was old packets of ramen, a dusty rack of spices and protein powder, Reese opened his fridge, scoffing in visible disgust every so often before finally alighting on the piece of apple pie that Mama Vega gave him yesterday. Leon’s eyes widened and he scrambled to right himself - he already had a shitty start to his day, he’d be fucked if his dessert was going to be taken away from him by a little shit whose usual day consisted of eating bonbons and watching General Hospital.

“Hey!” he whined, trying not to sound like a kid getting bullied on the playground. “Mama Vega made that for me!”

He hid a wince at the absolutely childish remark that came out of his mouth and instead rolled around on his floor trying to get his jeans back up his hips. Reese, apparently done speaking to Leon, just stepped on him on his way out the door without even an _expression_ that could pass off as thankful. The door shut with a click and Leon was left on his floor, jeans halfway up his thighs and without apple pie.

Even worse, the subscription to Teen Vogue that his little sister had been waiting weeks for had been stolen.

God, she was going to murder him.

* * *

Apparently, life wasn’t done kicking him straight in the balls yet. Thirty minutes after Reese stole his coveted piece of pie, his phone rang obnoxiously cutting through the low murmur of his weeping, lamenting about how shitty his life was. Dread pooled in the pit of stomach, mixing with the already present block of humiliation, sorrow and frustration, which was probably the worst cocktail of emotions he could have had. He didn’t even need to look at his screen to know who it was, after all, it was probably too much for life to actually give him a break for once. He actually thought he would be able to get through an entire week of vacation instead of being called back two or three days earlier for a case or more likely, some kind of emergency.

“What?” he said, crabbily skipping any greetings. “Is the world ending? Is the sun going to explode? Because otherwise, I’m going to hang up.”

“Wow,” a monotone voice replied, coming through his phone flatly. “What crawled up your cooch and died, fuckface?" 

“Marron, please.” Leon begged, rolling over to look at his ceiling. “Your usual charm and caustic words actually hurt today.”

He stayed attached to his floor, pants fully on this time, not taking anymore chances to embarrass himself lest someone else come over and watch him fall and eat shit.

“I care so much Leon, really, I do.” Marron acknowledged, sounding anything _but_ sympathetic. “But this is coming straight from the boss, can’t do anything about it.” 

“What could possibly be so important that _I_ have to come into work? We’re D Team, man. We get the shittiest cases and I’m pretty fucking sure that the director has plans on turning our bullpen into a new break room.” 

“Really?”

Marron actually sounded excited for once.

“God, I hope so, the break room by the B Team’s bullpen have such shitty couches and I’m too young to get back problems like this.”

“Marron, please.” Leon repeated, real pain in his voice. “I’m not getting up from the floor until you tell me what’s up and even then I’m probably not going to move.” 

“But why are you on the floor though?” she said, blowing past his last remark.

There was a continuous squeak in the background and Leon knew from experience (hours upon miserable  _hours_ of experience) that Marron was absently spinning in the ancient rolling chair that she stole from C Team when they were still around. The events of the morning rushed back to the forefront of his mind and he drooped further into his carpet, wishing for the floor to open up underneath him and take him to a place where embarrassment didn’t exist and he could actually talk to someone cute without all his self confidence shriveling up and dying on the inside. But that was too much to ask apparently, because there was a quiet _ding_ of phone receiving a message among the other noises in what was probably the B Team’s break room and then a moment of silence. Marron then made a high noise of amusement in the back of her throat. 

“Oh my God,” she choked out, practically cackling in between short breaths. “You poor fucking sap. This is the saddest thing I’ve ever read.”

Oh, _fuck_ him.

He had totally forgotten that Marron and Ailey still kept in contact after breaking up. And knowing the sadistic streak in both of them, there was 99% chance that Ailey sent Marron everything she needed to know to be able to torment him until he was dead from the sheer indignity of it all. Honestly, what was the point of living again?

“Ailey has outdone herself again with the number of emojis she can inject into a text and still have it be legible. It’s inspired. And it really adds a certain something to the content, makes it almost more sad than it actually is… Fifteen minutes? Really, Leon?”

“You know what?” Leon said, the shame pitching his voice three octaves higher than it usually was. “I can totally come into work today. Yeah, got all the time in the world! So no need to share that information with anyone, okay? I’m coming to work, you fucking _demon_ , so don’t start shit.”  
  
“I knew you’d see it my way. See you in a few, fuckbucket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a filler chapter, i'm so sorry life and college has been kicking the living shit outta me


	6. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we meet the entirety of d team and, like usual, absolutely nothing happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title** : going nowhere (4/?)  
>  **pairing** : eventual omc/spencer reid  
>  **rating** : t+  
>  **warnings** : language, mild humiliation, over the top scenarios, ridiculousness

Leon winced as he popped off his helmet, some of his hair getting caught on the latch. He struggled halfheartedly before slumping into his chair, laying his head on his desk.

“Nice hair, did you come on your bitch bike again?”

Leon grumbled, not even lifting his head to look at his coworker as he flipped her off. She laughed meanly, and in the corner of his eye he saw her drag her chair over to him and prop her muddy boots onto his immaculate workspace. He sighed.

Marron Del Olmo was both the best and worst agent that the Bureau had to offer. Best because she exceeded all physical and intellectual expectations set upon her, was respectful and obedient to her direct superiors but worst, because she was probably the most awful person to work with.

_Ever_.

When she wasn’t being an outright stone cold bitch, she was monotone, uncooperative, and emotionally dead. There wasn’t a long standing rumor that she was actually a cyborg sent by the CIA to observe Bureau proceedings for nothing. Fresh meat were literally terrified to even be in the same breathing space as her and needless to say, she milked those reactions for all that it was worth. Her assignment to D Team was celebrated by most of the department. For an entire week. They even had a cake to commemorate the event.

Despite all that, she was still (unfortunately) Leon’s partner and best friend. That probably said a lot about Leon’s mental health to have the tenacity to spend so much time with someone who made a murderer, whose kill count ranged in the upper twenties, cry like a child.

“Perk up champ,” Marron said blandly. “At least you didn’t die.”

“It felt like I did!” Leon whined, voiced muffled in the crook of his arms.

Leon didn’t need to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes at him. She swept her feet off of his desk, flinging paperwork all over the bullpen floor. She gasped exaggeratedly when half his desk came tumbling down with a loud clatter.

“Oops,” she said, eyes wide but blank; she knocked a fist against her head lightly, smiling vapidly. “Oh jeez, I’m so sorry Leon. You know how I can be such a klutz sometimes.”

Marron’s ‘innocent’ face and voice were nightmare inducing. More importantly, they were distracting and infuriating, two things that Marron excelled at cultivating and reveled in.

“Marron, please don’t do that to your partner,” a deep voice begged quietly. “And I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to pick all that up.”

Leon sent a brief prayer of thanks to the director of the FBI for putting Rayan Lynch on D Team as well. He was probably better suited to lead a life of sheep farming rather than the rough and tumble world of the FBI, but Leon wouldn’t have survived for as long as he did without him. He was basically an angel wrapped in the skin of a man who looked like he would eat an entire moose for breakfast and cut down trees to use as toothpicks. But in reality, someone would sooner find him crying over videos of cute animals that his wife sent him than actually doing anything even vaguely imposing or threatening.

Leon vividly remembered last year when the entire department voted him as “Least Likely To Cuss Under Any Circumstances”, “Most Huggable”, and “Would Take A Bullet For” in the secret BAU Yearbook that came out every Christmas. Rayan deserved so much better.

“Fine,” Marron said. “Leon obviously doesn’t have hands so he can’t possibly do it.”

Rayan winced, “B-but, you’re the one who did it – so please take responsibility.”

Marron gave him a look of practiced exasperation, before nodding indulgently and fondly, like Rayan was a tiny child that wanted something impossible.

“Only for you Ray,” she cooed, only half joking. “But I’m only picking up one thing, my wrist is still tender from fingerblasting this cutie last night. Man, theywere insatiable. I’ve never been more thankful that vaginas are capable of having multiple orga-”

“MARRON,” Leon shrieked hysterical, head whipping around so fast that his previously stuck helmet flew off, taking a considerable chunk of hair with it. “We’re in a public workspace!”

She leveled him a look of pure disgust, lip upturned and teeth bared. She turned back to a rapidly paling Rayan who looked like he was about to pass out.

“Anyway, before that little bitch interrupted...” she continued, glossing over Leon’s scandalized face completely.

“I’ll pick them up, but please don’t speak anymore.”

Leon felt like the worst person alive as Rayan was near tears, on his hands and knees already trying to clear up the mess of muddy paperwork and office supplies. He begrudgingly took to cleaning Marron’s mess with a look of exasperation and a quickly disappearing feeling of guilt as he came into contact with a soggy piece of paper – all the while she looked at them smugly, spinning her in chair like a child.

The devious bitch.

“Peons.”

Marron froze in her chair, her spine stiffening until she looked like a popsicle stick about to snap. She had a look of real fear on her face and she was visibly afraid of spinning around again to face the speaker. There was only one person who could make Marron look like a kitten in comparison – which, logically speaking, was petrifying. But it came with the mantle of being on D Team, so much so that fear eventually turned to annoyance and exasperation before it become an underwhelming resignation. Leon looked up to the sight of his unit leader wearing her usual oversized sunglasses and holding a rumpled pouch of Capri Sun. Beside him, Rayan fretted about the dangers of high sugar consumption for the nth time. Leon mourned his soul as he realized, with frightening clarity, that this somehow became the usual morning for his team.

* * *

Carmina Qiao didn’t cut a very imposing figure at barely five foot with delicate features and bird thin limbs. She was often mistaken and overlooked as their unit chief for Rayan who was far more impressive and attention grabbing with his bear like stature. That was always quickly rectified however with a single frigid look, with many LEOs and local detectives feeling like they looked into hell itself and only survived by the will of God. Or at least a benevolent demon (which Carmina definitely was when she felt like it). Leon shuddered as her gaze locked onto him and didn’t dare move, or breathe for that matter, no one knew what could set her off and he wasn’t going to bring more attention to himself if he could help it.

“Useful #2.”

His unfortunate nickname, but better than-.

“Fuckwit #2.”

Well, that was new.

Marron turned stiffly in her chair, not daring to look directly into Carmina’s eyes, but somewhere around her cheek area. She looked absolutely devastated.

“I’ve been demoted?!”

Carmina smiled, like shark teeth on an old chalkboard, and Marron looked down quickly, sweat beading at the back of her neck and on her temple.

“Perhaps.”

“Carmina, please don’t scare Marron like that. You know that she doesn’t appreciate your jokes.” Rayan chuckled, plopping a neat stack of paper on Leon’s desk.

‘That was a _joke_?!’ Leon screamed in his head, scrambling to sit in his chair again.

“Ha. Useful #1.”

Rayan grinned at her, oblivious to the fact that she was basically death in a body of a tiny Colombian-Chinese woman. And that was another unearthly, vaguely demonic thing about Carmina, Leon recounted with sweaty palms as he watched Rayan fuss over their leader again. She never exceed more than ten syllables in any given response – and they had counted.

They had an entire spreadsheet dedicated to it on google docs, shared only between Leon, Marron and Gina (who forced her way in with the help of their tech analyst). It was like the world could only handle so much of Carmina’s scary everything before imploding and somehow she was aware of it so she held herself back on her word and syllable count. That was Marron’s theory at least, but Leon doubted that Carmina would actually care about the status of the world.

“Where.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Oh yes, they’re on their way. Once those two get here, we can start the meeting.” Rayan reassured, attempting the futile effort of extricating Carmina’s juice from her grip.

Carmina never asked questions. She was too straightforward to waste time like that. Why put an inquisitive inflection in her voice when she could be doing something more productive, like murdering puppies or something equally as malicious? Nevertheless, brevity was her best friend and she was, if anything, pragmatic to the tee. And if Leon’s life wasn’t already more of a shitty sitcom, Leon’s main source of migraines decided to come barreling into their bullpen.

"Is it true?! Newbie?! D Team Newbie?!"

You could hear the capitalized letters in Gina's voice.

"Yes."

“Carmina, baby,” Gina pleaded. “Don’t leave a girl hanging like this!”

Gina Sharp was literally the only person on the planet that could get away with calling Carmina pet names. Carmina barely let her own _mother_ call her ‘Mina’, so that told of the depths of self restraint Carmina had with Gina or the sheer stupid bravado Gina possessed. Then again, their relationship was always a strange one, it wouldn’t be the first time the team wondered if they were fucking or not. They usually stopped after Kevin paled so much that a piece of paper would disappear if they stuck it onto him (it would then devolve into an old favorite ‘How Many Pieces Of Paper Can We Stick On Kevin Before He Wakes Up From His Daymare?’ and then everyone would forget about what they were talking about in the first place until the next time they brought it up – hey, they never said that they had normal hobbies. That’s the life you get when you work somewhere as fucked up as the BAU).

“We’re getting a new member?” Leon asked, forgetting his fear and depression for a moment. “Holy shit, I thought the assistant director said we were never ever going to be trusted with another human being after we broke the last one.”

“Allegedly broke,” Marron chimed in, momentarily brought out of her depression. “Not our fault that fresh meat can’t handle a little blood.”

“Marron, you silly bitch, I want to have a new playmate, so no more teasing the babies.” Gina scolded, arms wrapped tightly around Carmina’s shoulders. “Right, my dove?”

“Right.”

Leon wished that bleach existed for the brain because he would give his entire savings to forget that that interaction ever happened.

 “So,” he said, interrupting the two from gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes. “Who’re we getting?”

Carmina’s eyes were like icicles stabbing into his skull as she shot him a displeased look. Rayan saved the day once again, however, to cajole them and remind them that they still had to wait for their last member. Not a minute later, thankfully saving Leon from dying via Carmina’s eyes, Kevin Lynch came barreling down the stairs, face sweating and out of breath with a stack of papers in his hands and eyes wild.

“Carmina, are you sure this kid is the best choice? Like, no offense but you gotta have some real moxie to roll with this group and he’s… soft and so _young_.”

“Fuckwit #1, do not question me.”

It wasn’t quite a snarl, but whenever Carmina used her full ten syllables it spelled deep deep trouble. Kevin shuddered, using his crumpled papers as a quasi-shield from Carmina’s wrath. Marron gave a high pitched, muffled scream from the back of her throat; evidently she caught that she had been replaced by Kevin on the hierarchy of their team. Leon gave her a sympathetic glance but honestly, there were worse people to be replaced by – at least, Kevin was the sanest, calmest and coolest member of their team. Leon glanced at Kevin’s papers, squinting to see which poor soul was going to have to end up dealing with the team.

“Grant Anderson…?” Leon hummed. “Oh, wait. He’s that kid on support team right? About 24, like five foot ten, one hundred forty pounds. Dark hair, blue eyes, beauty mark on his left cheek.”

Leon rattled off quick facts offhand, years of profiling coming through in that moment. Carmina looked at him, seemingly pleased, and he felt smug when she nodded.

“How adorable,” Gina cooed. “Little baby agent, just getting ready to fly. He must be so excited.”

“He’s gonna end up crying and leaving once he learns the kind of shit cases we get though.”

“Marron, please,” Rayan said, turning to her with begging eyes. “I know you like to have your fun with the new kids, but this one looks like he has a lot of potential. He’s worked with A Team and B Team countless times and comes recommended by Hotchner, so don’t eat him okay?”

Marron opened her mouth to snark back, rolling her eyes but Carmina whipped the little yellow straw out of her empty Capri Sun and leveled it between Marron’s eyes threateningly.

“Agree, peon.”

“S-sure. Of course.”

“Boss, can we not threaten an agent in the open and very public bullpen? We don’t need to you to be written up again for misconduct.” Kevin reminded wearily.

Kevin had worked with Carmina just as long as Rayan had – somehow time provided both with the backbone to stand up to the most terrifying person on the planet, but clearly that drained them of any confidence anywhere else. Carmina gave them both leeway and trust that the others had yet to afford to both Gina and Marron’s immense jealousy.

“When’s he coming?” Gina bounced, dissatisfied with just listening. “We should have a welcome party, Carmie. Give me those hot hot funds and I’ll come back with a box of capri sun and a half eaten cake!”

Carmina looked tempted, already reaching into her coat pocket to give Gina her company card.

“No,” Kevin said firmly. “We send Leon and Rayan out for donuts or something, last time we tried to do anything bigger than a coffee break, we destroyed C Team’s break room.”

Carmina and Marron smiled wickedly, wistfully reminiscing on the destruction they reaped that day and Gina patted their unit chief down for her money. While they were distracted, Rayan eased Carmina’s card out of her hand and into his wallet, carefully pocketing it for safe keeping. Kevin nodded at the two of them and gestured for them to go – from an outsider’s point of view, it was probably a weirdly authoritative move for a tech analyst, and if it involved any other team that would be true. D Team believed in seniority first before titles, creating a weird dynamic where a mere CSU tech could sway their leader into doing dumb things and their tech analyst could make them go on coffee runs and they technically couldn’t say no. Kevin was too nice for that though and only ever took control when Rayan was more likely to have a panic attack than a clear head or if Carmina was distracted by Gina.

It was one point of contention for many of their short lived newbies – no one could really handle the fact that their supposed superiority had no effect or standing here. The usual huffing and puffings and posturings were just an annoyance to Carmina and that was the reason their previous two members were throttled, bagged, and dumped back at the feet of the assistant director within the first couple of cases. The assistant director was, needless to say, furious, each time and threatened to dissolve D Team more than once. It was only by sheer force of will and the deal Carmina must have made with Satan that prevented them from being without a job. (Or was it the deal Satan made with Carmina? Leon didn’t want to know.) After that, the Bureau more or less gave up trying to penetrate the team with a new body, not wanting to risk promising recruits to a life of death and fire – and that was just paperwork day.

“Kevin, when will you stop sucking out all the party milk from the teat of Fun and learn to share? Let me eat half a cake and regret it, damn it! I’m an adult woman and I have beads!”

“NONE OF THAT MADE ANY SENSE, GINA!” Kevin roared, trying to throw off Gina’s koala hold on his entire torso. “And if you bite me again, I swear to fucking GOD.”

“I just want to know the taste of betrayal, Kevin. I want to see if it tastes as sweet as I dreamed it.” Gina hissed, nonplussed and clinging on with all twenty pounds of her body weight.

“Off.”

With that one word, the usual chaos dissolved into a tense silence, scaring everyone into submission besides Gina who didn’t have eyes or ears clearly.

“But you said I could play for ten minutes today, Carmie. It’s barely been two.”

“Later.” Carmina rumbled, her low monotone voice somehow promising something more to Gina.

Gina gave a saucy wink back, patted Kevin on the back of the neck sedately, like she was trying to calm a wild animal, and climbed off of his back. Leon felt a piece of his entire being die and never come back. That sounded too sexual for his tastes; the last thing he wanted to know about was whatever demon summoning blood ritual Carmina and Gina used for foreplay. And to add to Leon’s growing collection of evidence that Carmina was psychic, she turned her head slowly towards him. Her cold dead eyes stared at him like she was contemplating dipping his soul nugget into the River Styx for flavor or just eating it plainly, as is. God, he should lay off the high fantasy novels before bed.

“Donuts. French crullers only.”

“O-oh. No Bavarian creams?” Leon, Marron and Kevin all loved them to an unhealthy degree.

Carmina literally hissed and Leon swore he saw God shake his head in disbelief, wondering how he could be such an idiot.

“Oof buddy, don’t you know a Bavarian cream donut killed Carmie’s first goldfish?”

And Leon (foolishly) thought that this day couldn't get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao wow, look at me casually updating as if i hadn't touched this series in a year and a half!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> and this is a little longer than i usually post, but y'all deserve it   
> love u

**Author's Note:**

> okay so after reading an excess of omc/reid fics that all ended with sadness and domestic abuse, i came to conclusion that the criminal minds fandom needed a slash fic between an omc and reid that's actually healthy. also, more characters of color so this, my ugly baby, is the result.
> 
> here's a quick rundown of the universe:
> 
> \- starts before season 1 and diverges in plot in some future season i have yet to determine  
> \- the only relationship that features oc with a _major_ canon character is omc/reid  
>  \- there is, however, a relationship between an ofc/canon super minor female character  
> \- i'm playing around with the personalities of three minor characters - kevin lynch, grant anderson, and gina sharp  
> \- this is, first and foremost, a humor/romance fic and does not hold a major focus on the main team's cases  
> \- will feature some d team cases, but they are inconsequential and very low stakes  
> \- that is not say that there won't be sadness, because there definitely will be  
> \- since i am needlessly research orientated, their place of work is where the actual BAU works (j. edgar hoover building) and the apartments talked about above actually exist (it's a thirty minute commute from the apartments to the bureau using transit)


End file.
